[x4] Day-Dreaming

Spoiler

Target: Abra (Hard as of Aug-Oct fourplay).
Ideal Range: 20k-30k characters.
Final Character Count: ~29k.
Author's Note: This is a story inspired by personal experiences with therapy, albeit not for any of the given issues. Recommended listening: Lullaby for a Stormy Night by Vienna Teng.

When she wakes, she cannot move.

At first, she does not know what to do. Her superiors warned her that this would happen, but it is still exceedingly disorienting. Something roars in the distance, and reflexively, she tries to move away from it, but her body is unresponsive. It doesn’t take long for the sounds to grow closer, until whispers fill her hearing. Dulled-down senses record useless information, garbage data that only bears a passing resemblance to spoken words. She tries to ignore them, fights to reassure herself that this is all false, an illusion of the senses. She fails.

Even worse than the noise is the sight of it all. Only her eyes can move, but they rove around the darkened room, instinctively gobbling up every bit of information that they can catch hold of. At first, all she sees is the dimly lit bedroom with her own, useless hands lying at her side, but then the shadows in the cracked doorway change and she watches a spindly beast with long, coal-black arms and twisted legs enter the room. Her heartbeat sounds like a war drum, audible even over the hissing voices in her ears.

Logically, she knows that she can do this. She understands that she can beat this. She remembers that she came here knowing that something like this would occur. Still, there is so much difference between experiencing something and reading about it in a diagnostic manual. She hadn’t realized that it would all be this scary.

But she knows that she is here to act, not stew helplessly in fear and panic. “At first,” he had told her, the aged doctor sitting in his chair while she floated on a cushion opposite him, “you will need to awaken the client immediately using your own telepathy, but after a few incidents, you should merely help them wake on their own.” These commands are simple enough. She returns herself to herself, quaking consciousness withdrawing to a small, fox-faced body with a short tail curled around spindly legs. While she can no longer see anything, creatures of darkness or otherwise, the whispers are gone, and all that remains is the sound of her client’s heavy breathing. When she reaches out this time, she makes no effort to synchronize her consciousness with her client; instead, she gently tugs at the thoughts of the terrified human, pulling the young woman out of REM sleep and guiding her back to wakefulness. There is a loud rustling of blankets as the girl all but springs into an upright sitting position.

Dutifully, Aubrienne waits a bit, giving her client time to shed a few frightened tears and breathe a few deep breaths. This will be a critical moment; she must establish a rapport and build trust with her client, or else her intervention will be likely to make things even worse than they are now. <Miss Perrin.> Her telepathic tone is gentle and quiet, a soothing warm breeze. <Are you alright?>

Miss Perrin sniffles. “I-I’ll be fine,” she says. “Thanks for stopping that one.”

Aubrienne does not smile; smiles, she’s been told, look out-of-place on the face of an Abra. Instead, she ensures that her tone is soft as she says, <You are quite welcome. It is my job, after all.> She pauses, waiting to hear the sound of Miss Perrin lying back down, but there is nothing. <Miss Perrin,> she says, <you should go back to sleep. A lack of restful sleep will only exacerbate ->

“I know!” Miss Perrin sounds equal parts anguished and angry, and Aubrienne has to remind herself that Miss Perrin is barely past the age of eighteen, and therefore prone to emotional outbursts. She has been scared much worse than Aubrienne, and she does not have the benefit of age and training that Aubrienne does. “I know. But that was so scary, and it wasn’t even one of the worse ones…”

Aubrienne floats closer to Miss Perrin, so that she’s hovering just on the edge of the girl’s bedside, at what she estimates to be eye level. <It was quite scary,> Aubrienne says. She reaches forward with one big paw and extends spindly fingers to gently touch Miss Perrin’s shoulder. The touch seems to reassure the girl, so she presses on. <But these are mere hallucinations induced by sleep paralysis. You are in no danger. I will help you sleep, and in time I will help you learn to control these episodes. Okay?>

Miss Perrin sniffles. Then she leans away slightly, pressing Aubrienne’s paw back into her lap. “Okay.” She’s quiet for a moment, then she lays back down. “Thank you, Aubrienne.”

<It is my pleasure.> Aubrienne floats backward, tucking her tail over her crossed legs and paws. It doesn’t take long for Miss Perrin’s brain waves to begin slowing.

Aubrienne sleeps, and when the next episode of Miss Perrin’s RISP hits, the Abra wakes once again to help her through it.

Spoiler

Client: Perrin, E.
Complaint: Repeat Incident Sleep Paralysis (RISP).
Psychotherapist: Dr. Boone Langlois.
Therapy Pokemon: Aubrienne (Abra).
8-12-2016: Client reports that all symptoms of RISP have decreased drastically. For incidents that occur, client is able to mitigate symptoms independently. Further appointments are unnecessary; client is advised to continue…

The taxi cab hums, a gentle vibration that would threaten to put a lesser Abra to sleep. Aubrienne, however, is a professional, and she is determined to remain awake until she and Mister Lavaud return to the clinic. She always does; saying goodbye to her clients is an important professional courtesy. Moreover, it feels right. She lives in these people’s houses for weeks or even months; it would be wrong to simply sleep away the last moments she is to spend with them.

Not that saying goodbye changes the fact that these relationships are temporary, fleeting, and not nearly as personal as she would like. But closure is a kindly balm.

Beside her, Mister Lavaud fidgets. He keeps looking out his window, refusing to so much as glance at Aubrienne where she sits. She’s been told that she looks comical from a human perspective, with her small fox body loosely buckled into a bright pink car seat. Mister Lavaud had even laughed when Dr. Langlois had given him the seat, and couldn’t help but chuckle when he’d watched Aurbienne buckle herself in. He’s not smiling now, though; the neurotransmitters are wrong for it, and his headspace is deeply pensive.

She turns towards him, hoping to offer some small reassurance. <You know, Mister Lavaud, you’ve been very successful in your treatment. So long as you continue with good sleep hygiene and continue the meditation routine Dr. Langlois taught you, I’m confident that your nightmares will not return.> When his emotions do not change, she adds, <And if they do, you can always return to Dr. Langlois. I am sure you would be able to work with another therapy Pokemon, if need be.>

Three out of her six prior clients have been fully, or at least mostly, reassured by similar statements to these. Mister Lavaud is the seventh and he does not bring the total up. This saddens her, but she does not begrudge his pain. It would be hypocritical.

Mister Lavaud sighs deeply and speaks at long last. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… I’m gonna miss you, you know? You lived in my house for the past month and a half, and you’ve helped me get through some bad stuff.” There’s a soft thump as he slumps back in his seat. “It’s going to be hard without you.”

Brakes protest quietly as the taxi cab pulls up to Vert Psychological Clinic. While Mister Lavaud pays the cab driver, Aubrienne unbuckles her seatbelt with one paw and teleports out of the cab, rematerializing over the sidewalk. Doors slam shut, then open, then shut again as Mister Lavaud, Aubrienne, and the carseat make their way into the clinic’s waiting room. Aubrienne allows herself to doze a bit; talking to Mister Lavaud right now is as likely to make things worse as it is to make them better. In a few moments, Dr. Langlois calls for Jamie Lavaud, and Aubrienne stirs to float alongside her client as they begin to walk back to Dr. Langlois’s office.

“Good to see you, Jamie,” says Dr. Langlois. “Welcome back, Aubrienne.” His voice is warm, as always; Dr. Langlois is an older man, one whose age and years of experience in healing the emotions of others have made him kind.

<It’s good to see you again, Dr. Langlois. So to speak,> she adds. The joke has been aged and battered by too many retellings with too many clients, but Mister Lavaud has never heard it before, and it cheers him slightly. Worthwhile. To both of them, she says, <Would you like me to join you two this session?>

As always, the decision is ultimately the client’s. Mister Lavaud hesitates for a moment, standing indecisively in the threshold of Dr. Langlois’s office, then says, “I think I can talk to Dr. Langlois by myself.” He clears his throat. “Thanks, though, Aubrienne.”

She cannot deny that this hurts a bit, but once again, she understands. <It is no trouble. Good luck, Mister Lavaud. It has been a pleasure working with you.>

Those words are old, more tired than Aubrienne’s jokes about her lack of eyesight and so much more bittersweet. She wishes, for a moment, that she can for once stop saying ‘goodbye’; the idea of a friend, or Trainer, or anything other than a coworker or client tugs at her heartstrings and threatens to drag down her demeanor.

But she is a professional, and she has codes to adhere to that go even deeper than the rules she follows as a trained therapy Pokemon. So she simply raises her ears and nods to Mister Lavaud. <Goodbye,> she says, and teleports back to her personal space within the clinic, taking comfort in the fact that yet another nightmare disorder has been vanquished as she lulls herself back to sleep.

Spoiler

Client: Lavaud, T.
Complaint: Nightmare Disorder.
Psychotherapist: Dr. Boone Langlois.
Therapy Pokemon: Aubrienne (Abra).
5-31-2017: Nightmare disorder has been responsive to treatment; healthy sleep habits have resulted in a marked drop in nightmares. Client reports roughly one nightmare per two weeks and complaints of fatigue and stress have declined steadily. Client’s major concern going forward is losing his therapy Pokemon, but Dr. Langlois and Aubrienne agree that…

It is only natural to be nervous, she reassures herself silently as she floats beside Miss Delaporte. After all, this is her first case. She has listened to book after psychology book, and she’s worked with several human therapists who have briefed her on all sorts of protocols and codes and rules. She’s worked her hardest to make sure that she can follow her dream, and now she waits on the edge of its realization.

This isn’t just about her, either. For one thing, this experience will be quite formative for Miss Delaporte. The woman suffers from agoraphobia, and has been prescribed a regimen of desensitization. Aubrienne, whose telepathic abilities allow her to sense the intent of other living things and give her a keen head for detecting threats, has been assigned a crucial role in this process. She will go with Miss Delaporte today, accompanying her to Laverre’s open-air market. Before Miss Delaporte began her therapy, being surrounded by so many people would have given her a panic attack immediately; now, with Aubrienne’s help, Miss Delaporte stands a chance at having a positive experience here. It is a critical step in Miss Delaporte’s treatment, and if Aubrienne makes a mistake… well, human beings are resilient, and she could recover, but such a setback would be painfully disheartening and make treatment all the more difficult.

Keys rattle as Miss Delaporte locks her door. Aubrienne floats beside her, ensuring that she consistently remains within Miss Delaporte’s field of vision so that her presence puts Miss Delaporte more at ease. It seems to be working; in one-to-one social situations, Miss Delaporte is a very friendly person, and she was extremely excited when the VPC assigned Aubrienne to her case.

<Are you ready to go?> Aubrienne’s nervousness does not show; she keeps her ears and tail perked, and maintains a cheerful tone.

“Yup!” A small pulse of dopamine surges through Miss Delaporte’s brain as she smiles. Aubrienne hears her footsteps and follows along, always ensuring that she stays visible at all times. “And I wrote a list like Dr. Langlois suggested - we’re picking up pecha and oran berries, bread, eggs, and a sweet treat for me.” She giggles, “I’ll share with you, of course.”

Miss Delaporte’s good humor is as fake as Aubrienne’s, though Aubrienne suspects that she wouldn’t be able to tell without her telepathy. While she can only detect body language from indirect clues like the release of neurotransmitters and the activation of certain neurons, Miss Delaporte sounds downright exuberant, and this gives Aubrienne the feeling that nobody would question the sincerity her positive attitude. With luck, and hard work from both of them, that impression will become truth over time.

As they make their way down the road, Aubrienne allows herself to doze off. Her subconscious is efficient - even in the deepest sleep states, she’s constantly taking in information, her brain firing out empathetic pings to detect impending danger. Shallower sleep allows her to track subtler things. Aggression that isn’t related to her, the emotional states of a specific person or two, and similar details can all prompt her back into full wakefulness with ease. She sees nothing wrong with a short nap, especially since she’s been awake for a couple of hours already, preparing with Miss Delaporte for this outing.

“Aubrienne? Are you awake?”

A guilty twitch of the tail threatens to betray Aubrienne’s guilt. <My apologies, Miss Delaporte,> she said. She can hear voices now; there are people out and about here, rambling through the streets. <I’ve had some difficulty maintaining my sleep schedule and I thought that it might be safe to doze.> She fights to keep a neutral posture as she adds, <But that is no excuse. I am sorry.>

“It’s alright,” Miss Delaporte says, but this time her tone is heavy enough with disappointment and worry that she might as well be screaming it from the rooftops.

Laverre’s market street is bustling; the city of otherworldly dreams comes to life on the weekends and flourishes under the warm summer sun. Symphonies of scent and sound weave their way around Aubrienne and Miss Delaporte. The thoughts and feelings of nearly a hundred humans and Pokemon pull at the edges of Aubrienne’s attention span, and she follows them back as far as she can.

<This is a friendly crowd,> Aubrienne says. She’s careful to float closer to Miss Delaporte, both to reaffirm her presence and to avoid taking up too much space. When Miss Delaporte remains still, fear continuing to rear up in the back of her brain, Aubrienne adds, <I’ll be right with you. If anyone is hostile, I’ll let you know, and if there’s danger, I’ll teleport you free of it right away. Okay?>

Miss Delaporte pauses, and then says quietly, “Alright.” She still sounds nervous, but she forges on ahead, and Aubrienne, as is her duty, follows along.

Up close, the market is even more intoxicating. Every sort of food is there, and Aubrienne’s brain struggles to pick them all apart - smoking meat, ripened berries, sweet cakes, and others that she’s never smelled before. She can hear so many people, and so many thoughts. Her head scatters in a million directions as, instinctively, she begins to scan in that never-ending quest to know everything there is to know about her environment. Fear trembles on the edges of her attention; before she can chase down its source, rage and terror spike not even two feet from her. It only takes her half a second to reassure herself that these emotions are coming from a hungry baby too young to understand that food will come before he starves, but in that half a second she discovers three more fonts of negative emotions, and then more, and then more, and there’s too many of them, and she’s in a sea of humans, of Pokemon, of potential threats -

One musician makes noise; an orchestra makes a symphony. This is the first time that Aubrienne has learned that a crowd of people and Pokemon functions in the same way.

“Aubrienne?” she barely hears Miss Delaporte. She knows that she needs to pull herself back to herself, but the overstimulation is a tide dragging her down, pulling harder the more she fights to push it back. “Aubrienne?” Miss Delaporte’s slight edge of panic is nothing compared to the sheer volume of feedback coming in. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that she’s failed, a knowledge that cements itself more and more as Miss Delaporte’s panic grows, “Aubrienne?”

This is the worst possible thing she can do, but she has to do it anyway, because otherwise she’ll be catatonic and Miss Delaporte will panic. In the blink of an eye, the two of them warp to the edge of the farmer’s market, out of the crowd, where Miss Delaporte fights for breath while Aubrienne realizes that she may have made the wrong choice after all.

<I’m so sorry.>

Spoiler

Client: Delaporte, G.
Complaint: Agoraphobia.
Psychotherapist: Dr. Boone Langlois.
Therapy Pokemon: Aubrienne (Abra).
5-24-2016: After an unfortunate outing during which Aubrienne became overwhelmed by her surroundings, Miss Delaporte is being assigned a different therapy Pokemon. Client has complained that Aubrienne was unprofessional, and we are taking steps to ensure that both client and patient will be successful. Treatment will proceed as normal...

Aubrienne has been working in sleep therapy for three years, and she’s spent approximately ninety percent of them wishing that she could simply grant her patients restful sleep.

If she were a Drowzee or Munna, this would be no trouble. But even if she were, the use of moves like Hypnosis and Dream Eater for patients with sleep problems are akin to putting a band-aid on a fractured leg - ineffective, but more importantly, not getting to the root of the problem. Some people are simply predisposed toward insomnia, nightmares, sleep paralysis, and the like; however, these issues usually have some deeper cause. Such is the case with Mr. Cornet, who sits cross-legged on the floor, murmuring his nightly prayers to Xerneas. The prayer almost has the cadence of a lullaby, though she knows that to the young man, they mean much, much more than that.

“... guard and guide me,” he finishes, “and shelter me beneath your kindly boughs. Life and light.”

During services, it is traditional for the assembled to respond “life and light”, but Aubrienne does not. For Mr. Cornet, who has prayed alone for so long, it would be an intrusion. Instead, Aubrienne simply lets the silence stand for a few moments before she asks, <Are you ready to sleep?>

He’s quiet for a little while, thoughts turning restlessly as he slips out of his T-shirt, turns on the bedroom fan, and sits down on the edge of the bed. Aubrienne thinks back to Miss Perrin, who at first took the longest time in going to sleep before she was able to relax. Mr. Cornet hasn’t been that way in the week she’s spent in his house; she desperately hopes that this doesn’t become a recurring issue. She can’t help her clients if they don’t actually try to rest, after all.

Finally, he says, “It seems like such a stupid thing, you know? I shouldn’t need a - a therapy Pokemon for something that happened in the past. I didn’t even get hurt, not really.”

She knows firsthand that he wasn't gravely injured. She’s shaken him out of several dissociative recall episodes, and she’s eaten many of his recurring nightmares pertaining to the Trainer and Garchomp who mugged him. The feeling of a claw against her throat, pressing down hard enough that she sees her own blood standing out crimson in the streetlights’ glow is one that she remembers well, even though it’s not her own.

<You are belittling yourself,> Aubrienne rebukes gently. <You were accosted and physically injured; these events quite naturally lead to emotional trauma. I am only here to alleviate your nightmares.>

He hesitates, rubbing at his throat for a moment. “I guess so,” he says. “I just… feel like it shouldn’t be this big a deal. Like I should be able to handle this on my own, you know?”

For a few moments, she doesn’t know how to reply. Then she says, <We all have our limitations, Mr. Cornet ->

“Please call me Lowell.”

<Lowell.> A first-name level of familiarity is strange to her, but she will do her best. <We all have our limitations; things that we ‘should’ be able to do but cannot. I feel that I should be able to cure my clients immediately, or stay awake for more than four hours in a day. I feel that I should be able to be with my clients as they go about their days without being painfully overwhelmed. I feel that I should be able to battle.> She’s sharing a bit more than she should be, perhaps, but she is here to assist where she can, not just with sleep-related issues. <But these limits exist, and we must learn to respect them. Right now, the best thing you can do is respect your limits by allowing me to help you get some rest.>

There’s the sound of rustling blankets as Lowell Cornet slowly lies back. “I don’t like it.”

<That’s okay.>

“But I’m glad Xerneas sent you to me.”

She has no idea how to reply to that. The conversation sticks in her mind for a long time.

There are no nightmares that night.

Spoiler

Client: Cornet, L.
Complaint: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
Psychotherapist: Dr. Boone Langlois.
Therapy Pokemon: Aubrienne (Abra).
8-04-2017: Client’s flashbacks and repetitive nightmares have decreased thoroughly; client no longer reports fatigue, allowing he and Dr. Langlois to more easily work together to treat more egregious PTSD symptoms. Patient expresses confidence that he will be able to sleep soundly without Aubrienne in one to two weeks…

<Mother.>

She teleports closer to the chair where Mother sits. She has never seen Mother, but she knows that the Alakazam who has raised her for all of her life is beautiful. Her thoughts are kind, and she loves Aubrienne wholeheartedly. Even now, Aubrienne can feel Mother’s gentle, tender concern stirring in response to Aubrienne’s arrival.

<Aubrienne.> Warmth fills Aubrienne as a familiar snout kisses her gently on the head. <You are distressed. Did you have nightmares again?>

Her fingers twitch, twining together and pulling apart again. <Yes.>

Paws much stronger than her own cradle her. In Mother’s arms, Aubrienne’s instinct to flee at physical contact simply does not exist. <It is alright, Aubrienne. These dreams may be upsetting, but they cannot harm you. Remember this. You are safe with me.>

For a few moments, there’s silence as Aubrienne remembers the dream. She feels the pain of fire burning her again, flails wildly as the Litleo bites at her, coming for her throat. She remembers the disappointment her Trainer felt in her as she teleported away rather than using Hidden Power like she’d been commanded to. Hears her Trainer mutter ‘lost cause’ when she thinks Aubrienne is out of earshot.

<Mother,> she says finally, still fidgeting, still uncertain, <I don’t think I can battle anymore. I keep dreaming about losing or… or even dying; I can’t keep fighting.>

Mother takes her time in replying. <Maybe your talents lie elsewhere, Aubrienne.>

She can agree with that. It’s not just the humans who find Aubrienne to be too faint-of-heart for the battling lifestyle. <I want to be like you.>

<How so?>

<I don’t know if I want to be a mother,> Aubrienne begins, struggling to properly articulate her thoughts, <but I want to do what you do. When I’m sad or hurt or scared, you comfort me. I want to do that for others. I don’t want to just be a fighting Pokemon. I want to help people, like you help me.>

Muddled thoughts lead to tired rambles, but Aubrienne’s sentiment is certain. Battling is difficult and dangerous; what’s the point of it all? <I’m going to help others someday,> she says, starting to drift back to sleep again. <Maybe I can’t battle. But maybe I can do that instead.>

There’s a train of thought roaming through Mother’s mind that Aubrienne can’t quite follow, but she gets the sense that it’s good. The phrase ‘Vert Psychological Clinic’ and the image of a kind human man flash through Mother’s mind, but are gone before Aubrienne gets the chance to ask about them. <I think that’s a very good idea, Aubrienne. But for now,> Mother warps a few feet across the room and sets Aubrienne back down on her cushion, <you need some proper rest.>

<Can you stay with me? In case the nightmares come back?>

<I’ll stay as long as you need, my dear,> says Mother, and Aubrienne rests easily in the knowledge that she is not alone.

Spoiler

Client: Regina (Alakazam).
Complaint: N/A, consultation visit.
Psychotherapist: Dr. Boone Langlois.
Therapy Pokemon: N/A.
10-21-2015: Regina reports that her daughter, an Abra named Aubrienne, is having flashback nightmares and facing panic attacks during battle. During this meeting, she brought up the idea of Aubrienne becoming a therapy Pokemon. The Abra line is known to thrive in this field, and we are strongly considering taking her on for training at the end of this month…

One arm outstretches, a gentle hand reaching out to provide comfort to a grieving human on hands and knees. She can help, and she knows it. She must. <Excuse me.>

As soon as Aubrienne’s hand touches their shoulder, pain lances through, stitching the two of them together. She can’t teleport away; she can’t move. Beneath her hand, the human twists in agony. She’s holding on too tightly, but she can’t pull her hand away. Cracks form now and she fights to pull away, and shards fall from her paw, a heap on the floor -

<And then I awoke.>

Aubrienne’s fingers tangle and untangle. Nervous energy hovers at the edges of her mind and threatens to boil over. It’s taking all of her restraint not to scan Dr. Langlois’s thoughts, to hunt for any trace of approval, or judgement, anything that gives her a leg up on this situation. Limiting her telepathy is hard enough at the best of times. When she’s this wound-up and exhausted, it’s nearly impossible.

Finally, Dr. Langlois speaks, “This nightmare you’re having. You said that you believe you know the root cause?”

She nods. <I am feeling overwhelmed,> she says, picking each word with care. <I have been experiencing nightmares as a result of both sharing in the traumas of others, and my own personal fears. I am tired and I am scared. The previous two times I have felt this way, I have altered the course of my life, as I am sure that you remember.>

“When you started training with us, and when you switched from service to sleep therapy after the incident with the Miss Delaporte, correct?”

<Precisely.> Her reply is calm for someone whose heart is beating so hard that it feels like it might escape her chest. <I do not want to stop my work. I have been able to help so many people… it’s what I wanted to do when I came here.> She recalls the conversation that she had a few weeks ago, remembers what she said to Mr. Cornet. <But my limits exist, and I am learning to respect them.>

Neither of them speak for a moment. Aubrienne finally picks her end of the conversation up again. <I came to ask for your advice.> She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and perks up her ears, doing her level best to look dignified by human standards. <My mental health is suffering, and I need to do something about it. I cannot work with you, but you know me better than anyone, except for my mother. I need a therapist, Dr. Langlois, and I would trust your recommendation.>

“My.” Dr. Langlois is quiet for several moments. “I didn’t know that you were feeling this way, Aubrienne. But I appreciate your trust.” She can hear the smile in his tone, “It may take a bit, but I’m sure that I can find someone who would be able to help you.”

This means more to Aubrienne than she can say. She settles for, <Thank you.>

“It’s no trouble.” There’s the sound of pen scratching paper as he jots something down, presumably a reminder to act on this meeting. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She’s already rising, preparing to teleport back to her quarters, when she stops. Remembers that she’s not alone in the world, no matter how it feels sometimes. She can do what she always does - make the best out of what she’s been given. <I think I might visit you off-hours more often.> Her prepared trajectory of teleportation changes. <If that would be alright with you.>

Dr. Langlois’s voice is warm, “That’d be great. I’ll get back to you soon on this. Take care, okay?”

<I will, thank you. You as well, Dr. Langlois.>

It takes Aubrienne several hops to leave the clinic, and a few more to arrive at a familiar park where an Alakazam sits with her Trainer. The instant Aubrienne pops into existence, she’s entwined in familiar arms, gentle kisses raining down on her head. <My darling daughter, you’ve finally come to visit me.>

Aubrienne wriggles, but doesn’t teleport away. What she’s been given is actually quite a bit, when she thinks on it; Mother’s Trainer’s continued residence in Lumiose is a blessing that’s all too easy to take for granted. <Mother, you’re embarrassing me in front of your Trainer.>

Mother laughs, and Aubrienne’s heart warms. <Alright, alright.> Aubrienne, freed from the embrace, floats to Mother’s side. <So what brings you here?>

<I missed you,> says Aubrienne, simply.

One day spent with family does not alleviate months of loneliness; one peaceful day off does not evaporate lingering strain. But when Aubrienne wakens next, she feels just a little bit stronger, just a little bit more prepared to carry on and help others do the same.

Spoiler

Client: Aubrienne (Abra).
Complaint: Work stress.
Psychotherapist: Dr. Boone Langlois (transfer pending).
Therapy Pokemon: N/A.
9-01-2017: Aubrienne reports that she is suffering fatigue, stress, and nightmares as a result of her occupation as a therapy Pokemon. She does not wish to quit the position; rather, she wishes to see another psychotherapist to help her learn to cope. Dr. Langlois will help her find a compatible Pokemon-specializing therapist, recommending increased socialization and…